A New (Old) House For New Memories

I just finished an episode of The Cosby Show.  Brendan came in and said, "Are you really watching The Cosby Show?" and I was like, "shhhhh...Cliff's talking." 

While I deeply love TCS, it does tell you a little something about what's on (or not on) TV right now.

We moved.  Our 11th move in 8 years of being together.  This time is a bit different.  We bought a house.  It has been a process.  One that started with a quiet whisper in June.  I had just moved Brixton to a different bedroom in our house and I was in full-on frenzy decorating mode.  Suddenly, this peaceful *thought* came to me: don't waste a bunch of time or money decorating this because we'll be moving soon.  I know it was God.

Anyway, it's been a long journey.  One including one failed house contract (actually the house across the street from the house we ended up buying!), two realtors, 3 mortgage lenders (with us switching lenders a week from our closing...).  Yikes.  Then of course, the packing, the getting our place rented out for our landlord, the coordination of a move. 

Move day came.  We know amazing people here.  7 guys came out to help us move.  The whole thing was done in less than five hours, with a scrumptious sandwich lunch on a bare hardwood floor. 

I love our new place.  We have tons of space.  We have almost two acres.  I saw a FOX this morning outside of our door (and I yelled so loud out of excitement I scared it away).  We moved out to more of a country setting so we get maybe one car an hour driving by our house.  It's dark.  Really, really dark.  Our living room windows don't even have coverings on them and we aren't getting any. 

It is a fixer upper.  We have a lot of work to do.  I can't explain to you how disgusting our bathroom situation is.  Let's just say the water here has a lot of iron, which makes rust stains in everything from the toilet to the shower.  And also the previous owners didn't clean before they moved out.  And I got the stomach flu two days after we moved in.  Hideous. 

We have a fireplace again though and I love having a crackling fire going on, especially on these cold nights.

On another note, my hair is getting so long.  I want to chop it off.   Long hair is great if you have beautiful hair.  My hair is average.  I dream of short hair.  But it's taken so long to get it this long.  I want long summer hair.  Ah, first world problems, right?

I want a new, simple, small camera.  I'm going to sell my Rebel and my 1.4 lens and my remote and all the other goodies.  It's been a great camera for the past five years, but it's big and hard for me to carry around.  Who has a small point and shoot camera they love?  Who wants to buy my camera? 

Maybe next time I won't be lazy and I'll include some pictures. 

Maybe.

Yawn

Oh, hey!

What's up?

What's going on?

Not much here.

We had Halloween.

It was cute, but dreary, as it rained all day.

Brixton got a lot of candy.

Most of it didn't make it past me though.

I don't feel bad about it.

I just consider it good parenting.

I had my birthday.

I'm a year older.

(slow clap)

For my birthday Brendan and I went to breakfast.

Then I went shopping by myself.

I got a chemical peel.

It didn't hurt too bad and my skin is like a shedding snake right now.

That's the point though.

Our house closing is in two weeks, but man,

we are having so many problems with our lender.

So we got a new one.

And had to basically start again.

Which, you know, isn't stressful two weeks before your closing.

I am so excited to move.

I'll miss our house.

I'll really miss living in town

so close to shops, coffee, the park, restaurants, etc.

We'll be living somewhat rural.

Trading in nights at the ice-cream shop for nights looking at stars from our deck.

I can't wait to decorate.

And this time know we are staying.

Brixton's room is the first room I'm tackling.  

We are painting it kind of a minty green.

He'll get his big guy bed.

I just want it to feel good in there.

I've been highly active on Pinterest.

I discovered the History category.

Sometimes it's better not to read some of that stuff.

It's sad.  Or disturbing. Or both.

I'm begging Brendan for a cat.

It's not working.

I think I might change tactics and ask about a dog.

I miss my Lola.

She's happy though.

I think it was the best thing for her. 

I still feel bad about it.

But 

I found a few videos I had on my Vimeo account.

I hadn't seen them in a long time.

They were of Brixton when he was tiny.

Lola was there.

And I was always scolding her.

I had lost my patience with her.

I didn't want her around, stepping on me, on Brixton,

licking everything,

staring at me.

So, I think it was good she got a new home.

Still, I feel bad.

 

Put on a Little Makeup/Tiger Remix

 It's the perfect day for a pumpkin spice latte and some blogging.  It's drizzling out, windy, cold, and all those other fall/winter adjectives that justify drinking coffee too late in the day.  I'm parked right now at a Starbucks nearish to my home.  I just got the latte, but then the barista offered me a free muffin..who can resist a free muffin?  Not me, apparently.  I don't even like muffins that much, but it was gone in seconds.

Brixton had a Halloween party last night.  Not only did he debut his $10 consignment shop costume, but the mad theatrical makeup skillz of his mama.  As soon as I started making up his face I decided to make mine up as well, convinced that many other parents would be costumed, since that's fun and all.

There's something magical about wearing weird face paint.  Mostly in the fact that you forget you're wearing it and you continue doing things you would normally do, like drive.  People really give you the side-eye when they see a fancy tiger driving a car, let me tell you.  

Yes, lady in the white Civic.  I AM a licensed driver.

In retrospect, I wish Brixton would have been a two-headed tiger, since he refused to wear his tiger head for  most of the night, though he did let out some mighty roars when we reached the party.  The reaction was pretty standard: all the kids thought he was a weirdo and spent the night avoiding him.

I also managed to have several full-fledged convos with this makeup on.  Right in the middle of talking I'd realize my face was painted like a cat/tiger thing and I would get really anxious.  Especially since 99% of adults in attendance didn't dress up.  Oh well, they didn't have the honor of scrubbing this paint out of their pores that night.  Or the honor of saying hi to one little boy, scaring him, and having him actually take a few steps backwards before he fell down.  At least I have the makeup to blame for that.  The face-shame you would have if that happened regularly on just normal days would be too, too much. 

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like October...

When I tell people that Brendan and I moved to Illinois via Denver via San Diego (where we lived for 10+ years) they always say the same thing in the same skeptical voice.  "Why did you move here?"

One of the best reasons I can think of is because fall here is glorious.  Pumpkin patches, hayrides, corn stalks, cold weather, geese flying south, hot apple cider.

San Diego might win the prize for best place ever, but the only pumpkin patch I remember seeing there was in the parking lot of the Mission Valley mall.  Wah-waaaaaah.  So, yes, this is the time of the year I gloat a little bit, though sometime in February I'll be begging friends to let us come visit.

Brixton has had a very busy social schedule lately.   It was interrupted by a week of home lockdown--he caught the Hand Foot and Mouth virus from a small baby friend of ours.  Has anyone else's kid had this?  I never heard about it until I moved to the Midwest.  Anyway, that kind of rained on our parade.  Now that his face doesn't look like he's been eating battery acid, I can take him out again without incurring 'looks'. 

Last weekend we visited the much touted Scarecrow Fest with one of Brixton's besties. 

 "And then I said, 'I don't like you mommy!' and I bit her on the hand like this."

Thomas, though shorter, is a lot faster. And therefore catches his prey more easily. 

 Brixton has a hard time establishing boundaries...

 ...but he can ride a pony like nobody's business.

We sweet talked our boys onto this ride.  36" was the requirement.  We were about an  inch too short.  We had to skip the carousel though.  Neither of us mommies could ride it.  Thomas' mama is pregnant and I would get violently sick.  We tried to tell the carnie that she wasn't really pregnant, that she just ate a really big breakfast.  It didn't work.

 Today it was really cold and windy.  And misty.  We hung tough though at the pumpkin farm.  We met up with Brixton's other bestie, Cade.  We roamed around, rode some rides, kicked a few pumpkins, snuck in to the child's playground (it was unmanned at the time), and went on a hayride through the haunted woods.  I'm glad it was daylight because if it were at night the hayride would have been too much for me and I would already have Brixton's first therapy appointment set up for tomorrow. 

  Gross. And cold.  And funny.

 I think we have at least one more pumpkin farm to visit, as well as 2 Halloween parties (maybe 3?) and of course the Big Day itself.  Brixton jabbers on and on about trick or treating..he has no idea about the candy part of it, which bodes well for me.  When a kid doesn't know the best types of candy bars, you really can just give them all the 3 Musketeers and they'll still be happy. 

Against the Ropes

I'm sweating.  Again. 

It's not because it's hot in here.  It's because my toddler-boy-thing is yelling from his timeout spot, "Mama, I don't want a time out" Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.

Oh, how about one more time?  Sure.

Again?  No problem!

I am the only person on earth convinced I've ruined my child?  How did I manage this already??

Did I yell too much?

Do I love on him too much?

Does he get too many chances?

Did I buy him too many Matchbox cars?

Have I given him too many kisses?

Do we have too much fun together?

Can I tell you the truth? (Of course you can!)

Sometimes I get SO TIRED of the crying, the whining, the voice that says, "I don't like mama", the bad moods, the hitting (omg the hitting), the not listening, the tears over nothing, the sudden mood swings, the drama.  SOMETIMES I DON'T WANT TO BE A MOTHER.  One of those times is today.  This week.  Last week. 

I feel like the nub of a pencil.  Ground down.  Broken.  Incapable.  

He will not listen to me.  For just about anything.  And consequences?  He could care less about consequences.  Time outs, taking away toys, using a firm voice, yelling, --they do nothing.  It's like fighting against the cutest, tiniest human that you could ever love so incredibly much, except inside they are a bit like the pit of hell with a skin made of ....what's the hardest element on earth? Diamonds?  Steel?  A bitter heart?  Whatever it is, that's the skin.  

So, yeah.  I sit here and I sweat.  Because I am getting angry.  Because I am taking deep breaths.  Because I am giving myself that little mom pep-talk in my head.  When I'd rather scream, run, cry, hide.  Or maybe bypass 2 altogether?  I know it's a precious time (I just threw up) but it only becomes that way when it's in your rearview mirror and you can look back and wave at it and maybe secretly give it the bird just because you can (not that I'd ever do something like actually flip off a figment of my imagination--just like I still don't pretend I'm dancing onstage at the Grammy's). 

I'm against the ropes here.  I'm in the trenches.   Does this get better?  Because now I'm hearing all about the threenager and how H O R R I B L E they are.  Motherhood.  A good idea?  Or a mirage?

Apparently you don't hit rock bottom until you become a human jungle gym. 

Brixton Verbatim

Gone are the days I longed for my baby to talk.  Now I long for silence.  For a private moment without someone shouting, "Mama?  Where are you?" while sticking tiny baby fingers under the door.  Now my days are filled with hearing the same question and/or statement about 100 times (in a row) or wondering, "Where did he get that word from??" Now that he's talking, he's coming up with some pretty interesting quotes.  Thus, Brixton Verbatim:

-Mama!  I'm running like a chipmunk!

-Me: My shoulder hurts.
-BRX: That's okay mama.  I can probably fix it with a drill.

-BRX: (farted)
-Me: What was that?
-BRX: That's a tornado.

I proudly set a piece of homemade peach pie in front of him.  He looked at it and then declared, "That looks horrible."  (And he wouldn't even taste it. His loss.  It was delish.)

Me: You are sweet like a lollipop.
BRX: I'm not a lollipop.  I'm just a boy.

(Smell of poop floats through the air)
Me: What's in your pants?
BRX: There's a treasure in there.

And the best/worst  moment of the week:

Brixton and I were at a restaurant for dinner.  I tried tucking in a napkin into his shirt.  Immediately, with the loudest voice possible, he yelled, "No, damn it!" then he hit the table with his hand.  "Damn it!" "Damn it!" "Damn it!"   Okay, #1--I honestly don't know where he got this.  We don't really swear in front of him.  Best guess--he heard it during a fight/one of those moments you stub your toe.  #2 I couldn't make eye contact with anyone in the restaurant.  Mostly because I was laughing too hard.

Mr. Handsome

One of my favorite all time pictures is one of my younger brother, Kevin, about 2 years old, his mouth smeared with my mom's lipstick (probably Revlon's Toasted Raisin or something).  He looks like a drunk hobo in the picture, which still makes me laugh when I see it.

Enter this:

I was scrubbing the shower when Brixton came in and informed me, "I'm handsome."  Well.  If you say so sir.

 I really don't know where he got those poses.  100% him. 

Autumn Fest

We went to Fall Fest at Peck Farm last weekend.  It was kind of a last minute decision, but one I knew that I would regret if we didn't go.  Going to anything fall-fest/apple-picking/pumpkin-patch during this time of year feels like a must.  Especially because the Farmer's Almanac has predicted a bitterly cold and snowy winter this year.  (Bring it on,  I say.)

The fest featured a petting zoo, a milking station, a hay pile, a jumpy house, food, and a raffle.  We got to pet calves and a big ol' mama cow.  I always forget how large cows are until I'm standing right next to one.  The calves?  To die for.  Big brown eyes. Eyelashes for miles.  I loved them.  Brixton was terrified. 

I honestly didn't realize the hay patch was going to be quite this much fun.  Brixton loved throwing hay in people's faces and let me tell you, he has quite an arm. Let's put a baseball in that hand and get him pitching--that would be our luck--our son becomes a MLB player.  We hate baseball. 

As it happened, we met up with one of Brixton's best friends--Cade--and his little sister Lilah, who Brixton tolerates right now, but I have a feeling in 12 years someone's going to have a crush on someone else. (Back off Lilah, he's mine. Ha ha.) 

It might look like Brixton has Cade over a barrel with the hay, but don't be fooled.  Not only is Cade completely potty trained, he has been walking almost since birth and recently returned from climbing Mt. Fuji in Japan.  All this means that Cade is outrageously physically talented and is obviously just being a good friend by letting Brixton think he's tough. 

Look at that follow-through on the throw!!   Cha-ching!

 *Almost* can't see my shoes

Another reason Cade is such a good friend?  He shares his one and only lollipop.  Even when Brixton was getting more than a little aggressive. 

Despite his obvious skepticism, Brixton did have fun on the pony ride. 

It was just suggested they hold hands.  It's amazing how susceptible 2 year olds are to being caught in pictures that will only embarrass them later.  Still, it was adorable, especially how they took it very seriously and wouldn't let go, even if they got tangled and twisted around, they figured it out.

The day was a hit.  Brixton crashed around 2:30, just in time for me to enter the raffle and win a family portrait session with a photographer with a much better camera than mine.  I was really excited...until I read the fine print that they will only let us have one picture and one pose.  Wow, how generous.